


Old Friends.

by hennethgalad



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 15:11:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11762538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hennethgalad/pseuds/hennethgalad
Summary: Olórin (Gandalf, foolish hobbits !) introduces Erestor to Glorfindel on a very important day in their lives.part two will be posted separately for 'archive warnings' purposes.





	Old Friends.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burning_Nightingale.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Burning_Nightingale.).



Old Friends. 

 

   
Erestor, who found himself constantly in disfavour at home for his incessant questioning of everyone and everything, was sent finally by his exasperated grandmother to the house of her late sister Míriel, to have his education furthered alongside the children of Fëanor, the only child of Míriel. Three of the elder of the seven sons of Fëanor had established households of their own; of those still dwelling in the House of Fëanor, Celegorm led the way in all things. 

 Erestor had been warmly welcomed by Fëanor, who had unwittingly terrified his young cousin; the intensity of focus in the pale yet burning eyes, the intensity of purpose in the great swift mind, had almost silenced even the inquisitive Erestor. But as the life of the House had enfolded him, and his reassured spirit had freed his mind, his interest in the work of Fëanor had surpassed the shyness of his fear, and he had begun to interrogate his majestic host. 

 At first, their minds had met with joy, dancing from the nature of pearls to the alchemy of rocks, with forays into the nature of colour by the varying lights of the Trees. But the intellect of Fëanor, older and wiser, had leaped away from that of his pupil. Fëanor had become increasingly distracted by the intrusion of questions that were no longer relevant to the focus of his work. To the lasting shame of young Erestor, Fëanor had lost patience with him, and in the open courtyard, before several members of the household, including Celegorm, had rebuked Erestor for being tiresome, and in an angry snarl had cried 

 'Trouble me no more !'   
  Life thereafter had been very different for Erestor. He had sought advice, and comfort, from Nerdanel the wise, wife to Fëanor, who in her calm way had reassured him that he was neither the first, nor would he be the last, to rouse the wrath of Fëanor, and suggested that he begin in study of all that had yet been written by the Elves, since many of his questions had answers, there for the finding.  
 But more than the written word, she had told him, far more important, was to meet as many Elves of as many kinds as he could, and to listen to their tales with great care. For Nerdanel could see that which yet eluded Erestor; that not in the inertia of matter of the smithy, but in the living hearts and minds of the Creatures of Words, would Erestor find his significance.  
   
 Yet even this would have brought happiness to Erestor had it not been for the malice of Celegorm. Erestor had been warned by his mother that as an eldest child himself, he could have no concept of the need for attention felt by a younger child, especially in a large family.  
 'Consider, furthermore, that since the marriage of Curufin, Celegorm has expected to be the eldest, with all the privileges he thinks attendant upon that position. But you, a distant cousin, with a keener mind, will be perceived by him as usurping him. Be cautious, my son, be gentle and kind.'

 Conscientiously he had followed their advice; he had been pleasant and kind, polite and attentive, and begun to listen, with growing interest, to the stories of everyone from the rare meetings with Finwë himself, to the daily crowds of courtiers who flowed through the Halls like colourful flowers borne on a river; from Olórin the Maia who called sometimes on Nerdanel, to the young country Elves unloading fruit baskets in the kitchen yards.   
 But Celegorm, moved by his father's angry dismissal of Erestor, began to tease, then bully, and finally relentlessly persecute Erestor, until Erestor, despairing, admitted his pain to Olórin the Maia. Olórin had advised him to endure the short time remaining before Erestor would leave for Valmar, and to simply disdain to notice the desperate behaviour of Celegorm and his young siblings

 'Do not reward them with emotional reactions, they crave sensation; at least, Celegorm does, and his brothers follow him in everything. Brush them off as you would the dust of the road, and the futility of their words and deeds will be brought home to them.'  
 Erestor remembered the words of Olórin with a smile as the group of youths he was with approached Valmar in the full and blended Light. The Road was dusty, yet though the dust was formed of sparkling powder from gemstones, still they all paused to brush it from their clothes and hair. In front of him a laughing girl shook out her long black hair, Erestor examined it closely, there was a blue sheen, an insect iridescence which fascinated him. She felt his gaze, turned and saw him staring, then laughed and darted away. He wondered what her name was.  
  They were all strangers; the ceremony to celebrate the fiftieth Begetting Day was a time for those of the same age, who might otherwise never meet, to share in that which bound them together, their Place in Time. 

 The Halls of Eonwë were set back from the Road to the East of Valmar, where Eonwë himself, in traditional fashion, received each group of new arrivals to await the First Ascent. Choirs of Elves and Maia sang songs of welcome as the youths stood respectfully at the foot of the stairs. When the singing ended there was a great cheer, and the choristers placed garlands of fresh flowers on the heads of the new arrivals, then led them through into the Garden where tables were laid for feasting. Erestor was delighted, both at the joyousness of the occasion and by the fact that hereafter he could return to the house of his father, or to any other place his fancy led him, with no stain of the self-reproach he would have felt for leaving the House of Fëanor in fear. 

 As the feast progressed, those present began to rise from their seats, some to dance among the trees and flowers, others to join the singing, and many gathered in groups to converse. Erestor drifted through the Garden, wondering if anyone whom he even recognized would be present, and to his delight came upon Olórin the Maia taking his ease in a bower of pale, sweet roses.   
 'Ah ! ' cried Olórin cheerfully 'I was considering seeking you out, but in your inquisitive way you have found me ! Please join me !' he gestured to the seat beside him and Erestor seated himself with a smile. They watched in silence as the dancers passed, Erestor opening his mind to the full richness of the experience; safe at the side of the Maia. The music was some of the best he had heard, the fine choir of Eonwë had inspired those of the arrivals who could sing to give of their hearts; the familiar songs seemed to Erestor to be finally sung as they ought, by great choirs of joyful Elves, spontaneously gathered in celebration. He tried to express this sentiment to Olórin, who smiled at him.   
  'This is as nothing to the choirs of Manwë and Varda. The Song of Ascent, sung when at last you reach the summit of Taniquetil and the doors of Palace Ilmarin, will transport you from yourself, and you will know that all other music is but a pale echo of that Song. For the Maia, that Song in itself is but a pale echo of the Music of Eru Ilúvatar. ' Olórin sighed happily and looked around him 'And here' he gestured sweepingly around him 'Here is the Music, made manifest, and lived out by all in Arda.'

 Erestor sipped his wine in silence, but Olórin turned to look at him  
 'Celegorm will arrive here tomorrow.' he said quietly.   
 Erestor nodded 'I am hoping that since I am no longer a part of the same household, he will have lost interest in making me miserable.'  
Olórin nodded slowly 'Yes, it is to be hoped that he may mature and learn wisdom, if not compassion. I admit to regret that Fëanor should have had so many children, for I fear that though he may love the younger no less, he has failed to give them the attention that they deserve. In truth, he did not offer even his firstborn as much as was due, for the mind of Fëanor, as you well know, pursues many interests. So it has been, alas, and his younger children, in their need for the love and attention of their father, have sought in unsavoury fashion to quench the thirst which they are barely yet able to acknowledge. But do not lose heart, my friend.'  
 Erestor, far from losing heart, found that being called "my friend" by Olórin, whom he most admired, had made his heart sing like the choirs. But Olórin spoke again.  

 'There is another now present whom Celegorm has offended. A good-hearted youngster of whom I am very fond. He is swift of perception and thought, though he will never be a scholar such as yourself. His father was at Cuiviénen; he was raised simply, on a farm, and knows nothing of the complications of the city. I am hoping that he will appear soon, and that the two of you will become friends.' he laughed softly, under his breath 'Or at the very least, allies...'   
 Erestor looked in surprise at Olórin 'His father was at Cuiviénen? Yet he... yet your friend is as young as I ?'  
Olórin nodded, 'Yes, his name is Glorfindel, you will know him when you see him. '  
 Erestor smiled and told Olórin of the girl with the blue-black hair. Olórin had laughed then.  
 'Very well, young scholar, I shall leave you to investigate the hair of your fellows, and you shall tell me yourself whether he is well named, if you will both call on me tomorrow for luncheon.'

 The feasting and song had lasted until the dimming of the Trees; Erestor had finally seen an acquaintance and thereafter found himself caught up in laughing crowds, with a glass that never emptied, dishes of delicacies constantly passed to him, and the girl with iridescent hair laughingly inviting him to dance. Lost in her deep brown eyes he forgot Olórin, Glorfindel and even Celegorm, and eventually found his arms linked between her and another girl, as they danced and sang around the flowered edge of a pool filled with bright gleaming fish.  
   
 After a rest in the beauty of the room in the Halls, the momentousness of the occasion returned to Erestor with renewed solemnity. After the music and song of the feast, the silent courtyards seemed to still the very dust, which drifted, sparkling, through the warm, flower-scented air. He inquired of a helpful courtier of Eonwë the location of the rooms of Olórin, and was personally conducted through the gleaming city by the courtier herself.  
 'I know of none who do not love Olórin' she explained 'His kindness to me, when I needed it most, will stay with me forever, and like all who have been blessed to know him, I would do anything to bring him joy. Indeed I envy you your summons, for as you will imagine, his friends and admirers would flock to his doors every day, did he not forbid us all !' 

 Erestor felt slightly crushed, and realised that he had, without being aware of it, already counted on the friendship of Olórin; a folly, naturally, given that Olórin was not only a Maia, but also perhaps the Maia most beloved of the Elves. He paused, and trailed a hand through the ivy of a pillar. The courtier stopped and turned back to look curiously at Erestor, then her expression softened and she took his hand in both of hers.  
 'Olórin will never cast you adrift, he will be sure to find a suitable companion for you to share the Ascent with, his wisdom in the ways of the heart is as subtle as his mind, he will not brush you off as...' she paused, and her cheeks and throat darkened with embarrassment.  
 Erestor blinked and withdrew his hand swiftly. 'You know about Fëanor...'  
 She closed her eyes and her face seemed to clench like a fist for a moment. Then she looked calmly at him.   
 'To you he is a cousin. To the world, he is the son of Finwë, king of the Noldor. Every public word and deed of his is carefully, and carelessly, discussed by all.'  
Erestor almost glared at her. She took a half-step backwards and smiled tentatively.  
 'Everyone is laughing at me ! I must leave here at once ! It is intolerable !' he cried. She put out her hand again, but he spun angrily away, gripping the back of a garden seat with white knuckles. There was a silence, during which Erestor took command of himself and slowed the hammers of his heart. 

 'Of course they are not... they are all as busy as Olórin, each wrapped up in their own lives, especially here, especially now...' he said finally, and forced himself to look up at her again. Her face was serious, her eyes concerned  
 'As I heard it, Fëanor treated you just as he has treated all with whom he has been close, including' her voice softened to little more than a whisper 'including his own wife. I have also heard that Celegorm, who even as young as he is has already begun to acquire enemies, has taken advantage of your sense of being in disgrace.   
  Know that such behaviour as his impresses none, and that the favour of Olórin will count for far more, both in your heart, and in the eyes of the world, than any fleeting discomfort you may feel from the malice of a piqued child. Indeed, the talk is of your courage and fortitude, and you will find that the scorn of Celegorm for you inspires rather the respect of the wise. But whether Celegorm can be enabled to understand the effects of his behaviour is another matter, and one that I am delighted to say will not be a problem that I, or you, will have to solve.' 

There was ivy engraved both on and around the door. The courtier bade him farewell with a hand on his shoulder, and a large bee, as though taking up the role, hummed past Erestor and settled on the door. He smiled to himself and knocked on the smooth wood. The kindly voice of Olórin bade him enter, and as he opened the door the bee floated into the Tree-lit room, to join several others circling the desk where scrolls and parchments were scattered in disorderly piles. Erestor looked around at the large Treeward-facing windows, through which the shade of a wide colonnade, its roof upheld by pillars wreathed in living ivy, gave onto a meadow of many flowers in long, thick grass. The bees were busy among the flowers, drifting in and out of the shade and the room, filling the fragrant air with their drone.   
  Olórin himself was silhouetted by the bright garden, he turned to Erestor and beckoned him forwards. Erestor moved to the side of the Maia, who gestured with a slight sweep of his hand.  
Several Elves were playing teamball in the grass, but the one nearest to the house stood still, his back towards them, waiting for the ball. He was tall and broad at the shoulders, his limbs long, his body poised, held in the loose alertness of the exemplary player. But it was the hair that caught and held the eye, hanging down his back like molten gold, the strands tumbling and twisting in serpentine tendrils of frozen fire. 

 The ball flew towards them, the golden-haired Elf lifted an arm and plucked it from the air, then with the speed of a dragonfly, he darted away, his hair streaming behind him like a wind-blown flame. Erestor blinked and turned to Olórin, who was watching him thoughtfully.   
   
Erestor nodded 'That is Glorfindel.'   
Olórin smiled, then looked seriously into the eyes of Erestor.  
 'There are strange prophesies regarding him. I admit that it is my hope that not only will you find sympathy in him, but that he will find support in you. Your devotion to enquiry and the life of the mind contrast with his vigorous delight in action. I think a friendship between you would enrich both your lives, and strengthen you both in the days to come.'  
 A shadow seemed to fall on the face of the Maia, the light blue eyes darkened, and a frown folded the usually-smiling face. The sense of deep unease was new to Erestor, he could imagine no plausible threat to Valinor that could ever be beyond power of the Valar. Melkor himself had been constrained by the order of Manwë, yet here was one of the Maia, hinting that worse was to come.   
 'But, Olórin, of what possible threat do you speak ? And if such a threat be upon us, what possible use could such... such young and insignificant people as I or Glorfindel be against it ?'  
 Olórin sighed and smiled, 'Even were it permitted to me to speak of such matters, there is little that I can say to assist you. As you cannot imagine what my eyes see, so am I unable to comprehend the manner in which the World appears to you.   
 I merely ask that you consider Glorfindel as a friend, if his own charm does not sway your heart.' Olórin laughed 'But I know that it will !'

 A shout of triumph, followed by laughter and cheering, came in from the garden. Olórin led Erestor out onto the colonnade as Glorfindel ran towards them with the ball in his hand and laughter still lighting his face. He was extraordinarily handsome; Erestor thought of other beautiful Elves he knew, and how such beauty did the work of charm so well. Except in some, he thought, like Celegorm...

The impact of the arrival of Glorfindel on the quiet of the colonnade was like a sudden flash of lightning, the first footfall of a storm into parched air. There was a fresh sweetness around him, almost a breeze; Erestor could feel the vigour of him, felt himself animated in sympathy. The very shade was brightened, and optimism filled his heart.   
 Glorfindel blinked as his eyes became accustomed to the dimness, and grinned at Olórin who clapped a hand on his shoulder 'Another victory, my friend, there is no stopping you !'  
 Glorfindel smiled, and tossed the ball into the air, caught it, then spun and threw it towards the approaching Elves, who struggled laughingly to catch it. But Glorfindel was already looking at Erestor   
 'I have heard tell of you, and not only from Olórin. It seems we have a common foe.'  
 Erestor gaped, the thought that this marvellous Elf had ever thought about him seemed unbelievable, but then he remembered who his cousins were, and his delight subsided. He smiled and bowed more formally than usual, and said  
 'Walk in the light. Olórin speaks of you with praise, Glorfindel, indeed you are well-named.'  
Glorfindel was still as he weighed the polite words, but Olórin had a hand on their shoulders 

 'Come, children, for so you will remain until you have ascended Taniquetil, let us dine together and share a tale or two. It is my honour to fare you well before you set forth upon your climb.'  
The House of Olórin was set on the western side of a low hill, sheltering house and garden from the sea winds. In the dell between house and hill, Olórin grew fragile herbs and delicate flowers whose evocative scents rose almost visibly to perfume the air of the balcony to which Olórin led them, up broad shallow steps of pale green marble. At the top of the hill, level with the balcony, a fountain sparkled in the Tree-light; its form was that of a tree of white gold, finely drawn into myriad tiny twigs, whence the water flowed like the living rain. Erestor and Glorfindel gasped with delight, the Tree-light formed dancing, many-hued patterns of colour in the fine spray of the seemingly delicate fountain. Olórin looked pleased and proud as they turned to him with exclamations of admiration.   
 'Thank you, it is the most beautiful aspect to this lovely house. Indeed, Aulë himself constructed the fountain, and placed it here, and had the house built to view the fountain as it should be seen. It is my privilege to inhabit this fine home.' he lowered his voice to a mock-fierce whisper 'It is the loveliest home in Valinor !' 

 Glorfindel laughed cheerily and clapped Olórin on the upper arm, to the consternation of the formal Erestor, but Olórin laughed, linked his arm with that of Glorfindel and led him to a chair by the laden table on the balcony. He gestured Erestor to another chair, then lifted a garland of small white flowers onto the shining hair of Glorfindel. There was another for Erestor. Olórin himself took a garland of vibrant pink, so deep that it that it was almost violet, and placed it upon his own head. Glorfindel gave a short laugh   
  'Olórin wears the Crown of Nessa, and we her flowers.' he said confidingly to Erestor, who looked at Olórin in puzzlement   
 'This' he gestured at the dense, vivid draperies of the pink vine 'this is Crown of Nessa ? I have seen it elsewhere, but I did not know the name. But tell me, Olórin, does this vine grow two, or indeed, several, types of flower ?'   
 Olórin smiled and plucked a twig from the overhanging foliage 

 'No, these are not flowers, these are the leaves, observe.' he gave the strand to Erestor, who looked closely at it. It was as Olórin had said, near the end of the twig the leaves were gradually turning pink, while at the tip hung three frail, star-like flowers of white. Erestor held the flowers before his face and inhaled carefully, but could percieve no scent.   
Glorfindel spoke then 'But the true Crown of Nessa is the cloud of butterflies and birds which dine upon the nectar.'  Indeed it was so, jewel bright birds, of size no greater than the irridescent butterflies, hovered over the little flowers, or darted from stem to stem. Olórin suddenly clapped his hands together, and from every branch, it seemed, rose a cloud of butterflies, and gem-like birds, filling the air like windblown petals. Erestor rose to his feet and looked at Olórin.   
 'Truly you are wise, oh Olórin, kindest of Maiar, for I have never seen such a spectacle; it is my loss, that I have spent years in study, hunched over book and scroll, counting myself wise, thinking that I knew the world, when the world has been unfolding around me before my unseeing eyes. You must think me very foolish.'  
 Olórin sat down and smiled at Erestor 'No, my friend, but I know that you are young, and have much more to learn than can ever be found in books, or any work of hand or mind. However' he looked with mock severity at the smiling Glorfindel 'You, my blythe young Elf, have sorely neglected the world of book and tool, and must learn the patience to sit still long enough to study a little.' 

 Erestor gave a small smile at the stricken expression on the otherwise carefree face of Glorfindel, but spoke to Olórin.  
 'So you have brought us together in the hope that I may guide him through the libraries and smithies, while he shall share with me his knowledge of the real world of all that lives or grows here in Valinor ?'  
 Olórin smiled a subtle smile, and lifted the cover of a deep dish. A cloud of richly-scented steam arose around his face, for a moment there was an almost sinister air to him, but as he smiled, the steam dispersed, and Olórin said  
 'Yet much of beauty and delight has been crafted by those who study, or work with their hands; the joy of cooked food, begun by the Noldor in far off times, and perfected in the abundance of Valinor, is a marvel in itself, and many wonders that you take for granted are the product of years of study and labour by many hands and minds.'  
   
  Erestor and Glorfindel looked seriously, appraisingly, at each other for a moment, then Glorfindel smiled.   
 'I think that your conduct in the teeth of the malice of Celegorm would dispose me to heed your words, though Olórin had not introduced us. My ignorance of craft and scroll is shameful, and I hope that you will help me. For my part, sharing my love of the beauty of Valinor is a joy in itself; knowing that I may thereby offer you assistance in your own observation is an additional pleasure.'

 They smiled warmly then, and Olórin seemed to breathe more easily. Erestor looked down at his hands as Olórin asked Glorfindel to pour wine, while he served them bowls of the rich pottage. Erestor was abashed at the confidence, ease of manner and sheer presence of the charming Glorfindel, it seemed very unlikely to him that such an Elf would pay him heed; surely he would be polite and cordial, but then excuse himself and find some interesting person to pass time with. He sneered at his hands, he had made nothing; for though he had spent time in smithies and workshops, particularly that of Nerdanel the wise, he had preferred to watch and listen, more interested in the crafter than the craft, whomsoever wielded the tools. He became aware that Olórin was watching him keenly and looked up at the kind blue eyes. Across the table, Glorfindel ate heartily, pausing occasionally take a sip from the glass at his side. Erestor, avoiding the gaze of Olórin, tasted his own; the wine was old, soft and smooth as silk, in his delight he forgot his fear and looked at Olórin in surprise.   
  'Surely this is... surely this is Vintage of Varda ?'  
Olórin smiled sunnily, gentle pride and happiness shone forth from him like the Light from a polished gem. Erestor almost forgot the wine, so moved was he by the radiant joy of the Maia.   
 'Yes, my friends, it was a gift from our Lady herself, and I save it for special occasions.'   
Even Glorfindel paused then, and looked first at Olórin and then at Erestor. Their eyes met, and for the first time Erestor felt that he could see beyond the gleaming charm to the country Elf, unsure of himself amidst the splendour, but still carefree and fearless. Erestor wondered how much of the calm of Glorfindel was natural ease and how much an act of great courage. 

The excellent food, the rare wine, the beautiful setting, and the skill and charm of Olórin, soon had even Erestor talking freely, and laughing aloud at the jesting. But when finally Olórin led them to the great open porch of his House, to wish them well at the start of their climb, the shyness returned to Erestor and he fell silent. In the sparkling street outside, the young Elves who would come of age that day walked past in twos and threes, with here and there a small group. To the East was the stunning height of Taniquetil whose snowy peaks glowed like nacre in the Light of the Trees. Glorfindel thanked Olórin for the hospitality, glanced at the hesitant Erestor and thanked Olórin on his behalf. Erestor finally remembered his manners.  
  'I shall remember this meal with joy for as long as I live, I can think of nothing I would rather have done on this day, nor anything that I would have added to the occasion. I shall always be grateful to you, Olórin of the Maiar.' he said, bowing with hand on heart.   
 But Olórin smiled and took the hand of Erestor and held it in both of his  
 'Walk always in the Light, my dear friend, always in the Light.'

 

 They were gathered at the crossroads, a bright noisy throng; off to one side, Eonwë sat on a great chestnut horse, which stood calm and still, Light gleaming from its flanks. Erestor swallowed nervously and looked to Glorfindel for reassurance. Glorfindel looked searchingly at the crowd then turned to Erestor   
 'Are you expecting to meet anyone ? Do you know anyone here ?'  
Erestor shook his head 'Alas, the only other of whom I am aware is...'  
 'Celegorm.' said Glorfindel coldly. It was the first shadow that Erestor had seen crossing the lovely face, he examined his own feelings and realised that in only the time it had taken them to dine, he had been charmed by Glorfindel, just as Olórin had foreseen. He smiled at himself, then thought of the old adage   
 "Argue with a Maia when you can hear the Music."  
'Oh Glorfindel, I had forgotten him in my joy at this day's events, especially...' he hesitated and flushed slightly 'Especially meeting you.'   
Glorfindel smiled happily at him 'You are right, what is the shadow of a cloud to the Light of the Trees ! Let us brush aside our small grievance, and cherish the occasion !'

 They stood beneath a tree at the edge of the crowd, listening to the laughter and singing. After a time they realised that many others hung back alone, watching shyly. Finally Glorfindel spoke to an unfamiliar Elf beside them  
 'Walk in the Light, stranger, have you travelled far to be here ?'  
 The stranger, clad in formal robes of Noldor blue, which looked both new and unfamiliar, to the courtier-eyes of Erestor, looked a little apprehensively up at the splendid Glorfindel, but smiled tentatively   
 'Valar guide you, stranger, yes, my brother and I', he gestured to the Elf behind, who had turned at the sound of voices 'we come from Alqualondë, well, nearby, there is a village...' his voice tailed off, but his brother, who resembled him, but was not as alike as some twins are, stepped up beside him and bowed.   
 'Walk in the light' he said 'Have you come down from Taniquetil ?'  
 Glorfindel laughed 'Alas, this is to be my first ascent. But my mother is of the Vanyar.' he flicked dismissively at his gold hair, and shrugged; slightly behind him, Erestor watched the myriad fingers of the wind twine the silken strands, as though Manwë himself were drawn to toy. His mind, intent upon the gravity of the occasion, awoke with a jolt to the message of his heart. The charm of Glorfindel had possessed him. Erestor knew that he was more than charmed, that the bright heat of the flame had caught his heart, and all those he had admired in the past seemed but the follies of youth.

  Here was the beautiful Glorfindel, beside him, at this great moment in their lives. He looked at Glorfindel, his eyes glowing, as though he could convey his discovery merely with his eyes. Glorfindel smiled back at him, the look of one about to speak on his face, but paused when he saw the shining smile and the glowing eyes of Erestor. He gave a half-smile, and turned back to the brothers. The first was speaking, a laugh in his voice  
 'We have visited the house of our uncle in Tirion, it was he who attired us so. To speak plainly, I am uncomfortable in such finery.' His twin frowned slightly but said nothing. But Glorfindel laughed gaily  
 'I too am unaccustomed to finery, for I was raised on a farm. But my new friend here wears nothing else !'  
 They passed some time thus, laughing at the jesting of Glorfindel with the more talkative of the brothers, drawing nearby Elves to hover at the edge, then join in the laughter. Erestor marvelled at the simple charm of Glorfindel, putting strangers at their ease in a conversation that the reserved, cautious ear of the courtier in him found himself constantly searching for insinuation and nuance that was entirely absent. It slowly became clear to him why this was so. The purpose of this conversation was merely to have a conversation, there was no hidden intent, nobody sought to sway or persuade, no subtle influence was being exerted, no pressure applied. He felt his muscles ease, thinking again with praise and gratitude of the wisdom of Olórin; Glorfindel was the perfect tonic for his overwrought spirit, there was indeed a great deal more to life than the narrow scheming of the courts of Tirion.   
   
Even as he understood this, a voice full of contempt spoke from behind him.  
 'My friends ! Here is my dear cousin, what joy is mine !'   
Celegorm was there.   
Erestor turned swiftly, his jaw clenched, the mask of the courtier gripped fiercely in place.   
 'Walk in the Light, cousin.' he said tonelessly. To his surprise, the face of Celegorm became pale, but blood rose to the skin of his cheeks and neck, his eyes were widening with fear. Erestor frowned in surprise, Celegorm had never feared him... He felt an arm around his shoulders, and looked up to see Glorfindel beside him. Glorfindel merely looked coldly at Celegorm. Neither of them spoke.   
 The son of Fëanor froze into stillness, as did his friends; the air between Celegorm and Glorfindel became still, solid as amber. Erestor felt unable to breathe, the silence engulfed the laughing group, and the visible tension drew the eyes of all around. 

 In the midst of the endless moment, Erestor found himself vividly aware of all about him; the colours of the sky, the increasingly remote sounds of laughter and song, the bright formal robes, the birdsong, the scents of flowers and trees, and beside him, Glorfindel, warm and living, a strand of the precious golden hair brushing against his cheek, carrying a faint hint of cut grass, and wild herbs. He almost forgot Celegorm and his followers, the poise and presence of Glorfindel reduced them to harmless children. He almost laughed. 

 But Celegorm, with no word of greeting nor explanation, merely turned and walked away. His friends followed in silence. Glorfindel kept his arm around Erestor for a moment longer, then with a final tightening of his grip, he let go and turned back to the breathless Elves.   
 'So they will perform "The Arrival of Oromë" in the open air theatre after the ascent ?' he said, as if they had never been interrupted. The less talkative twin was the first to regain his voice.   
 'Yes, Melairë of Alqualondë will play Oromë. Have you seen anything of his ?'  
 'No, but I saw a beautiful drawing of him once, he indeed looked handsome enough to play a Vala !'  
Erestor wondered if he alone had heard the faint traces of deeper emotion than amusement in the voice of Glorfindel. His eyes met those of the talkative twin and knew that it was not so. But Glorfindel was speaking  
 'I am eager to see this great actor, though I hope his great beauty does not blind me to his skill !'  
Erestor, marvelling at the blunt honesty of Glorfindel after the lies and hypocrisy of court, remembered his voice, and manners.   
 'I have met Melairë several times, I could introduce you if you wish it ? He is charming and amusing when he wishes to be.'  
 Glorfindel laughed 'I should hope so ! That is the least to expect of an actor !  But it is my hope that he may stir my spirit with emotion, and make me weep with joy. Do you not find that knowing the actor destroys the illusion ?'  
 'Not when the actor is skillful. When he played Enel in "Cuiviénen" I swiftly forgot that Melairë the actor existed, for me it seemed that he had become Enel.'   
 Other voices spoke up, until at length a kindly Vanya reminded them that the ascent had begun and stewarded them back onto the path. 

As they climbed above the lower slopes the Trees became visble in all their magnificence, the forests and meads of the valley spread around them, and when the path encircled the mountain the deep shade of the sea appeared between the sharp cliffs of the Gap. The birds of the air around them changed in nature to those suited to the heights of the mountain, eagles floated; some, far, far larger than even the largest of the lesser eagles, were the messengers of Manwë, bringing news to their Lord of all that passed in the world beyond Ilmarin.  
   
 Higher they climbed, the laughter of the Elves giving way to quiet song and silence; the colours of the valley began to fade as the misty air thickened, but the Light grew stronger, and the heart of Erestor felt as though, for the first time in his life, he could believe those who insisted that the Music could be heard even by Elves. Though he heard nothing himself, he was moved to turn to Glorfindel.   
 'May I ask you a question ? A personal question?'  
Glorfindel laughed again, Erestor wondered what it must be like to have such a well of joy within, for the laughter of Glorfindel little resembled the tone or timing of the laughter of courtiers. But Glorfindel looked smilingly at him  
'You may ask me anything, my friend, if you will allow me to consider you my friend.'  
 Erestor stopped and stared at Glorfindel for a moment, his voice seemed not to work, he swallowed and then in a small croak he said 'Thank you.'   
 Glorfindel smiled and raised an eyebrow. Erestor gestured vaguely with one hand  
 'It is the Music... Do you hear it ?' he asked clumsily. Glorfindel frowned for a moment and looked curiously at Erestor  
 'Do you mean... You do not mean now, you mean ever... I do not know. I sometimes think that I do, but no, I cannot say that I clearly do. No.'  
 Erestor spoke as coolly as he could 'No. Nor I; indeed until now I did not believe those who claimed that they could, though I said nothing.'  
 Glorfindel looked soberly at Erestor. 'I shall have to find a suitable gift for Olórin, to honour him for introducing us. I was idly thinking of the festivities to come as we climbed, but you have reminded me of the magnitude of this momentous occasion, and I am most grateful to you.'

 But the mind of Erestor dwelt entirely on the person of the friend who walked beside him, and the gravity of the day touched him less than water drops on a furnace-hot blade.  

 The fair halls of the Vanyar were spread across a high plateau, the path meandered, past fresh cool streams and foaming falls. The Vanyar had gathered to line their path along an avenue of flowering trees; they scattered petals of delicate pink over the passing youths and sang the Vanyar Song of Welcome. Above them the dazzling snow began; where the rising slope funnelled into an ever-narrowing valley, down which a stream flowed bearing shards and fragments of ice.  One foolhardy Elf darted off the path to taste the water, but the shock of the cold rendered him insensible, and his new friends waited with him while he was tended by a patient steward, who let him sip at miruvor until he recovered sufficiently to rejoin the ascent.   
 Glorfindel, who had successfully smothered his laughter until they were beyond hearing, took hold of the arm of Erestor and turned his sparkling face towards him.   
  'Did you see him ? I thought that was the funniest thing I have seen in a long time ! Did he not know that ice is cold ?'

  Erestor felt a shadow fall across him, as though the cold of the everlasting snow had reached his bones, though the long climb in the thick formal robes had warmed them all. He felt his frown, and saw the face of Glorfindel stiffen as his hand dropped from the arm of Erestor. There was a moment of silence in which Erestor knew that this was a stranger whom he had known for a mere instant of time, until his courtier's training guided his thoughts. He smiled as warmly as he could.   
 'It was amusing indeed, and I feel sure that he, and all who saw him will tell the tale to all. Yet I cannot but wonder if some rash Elf does not attempt the feat every year; I too was tempted to try the water. But no such tale has ever reached my ears.' he raised his brows at Glorfindel, who frowned thoughtfully.   
 'You are perceptive, Erestor, and indeed, I have heard no such tale, nor any warning...' He lifted his eyes to the peak above them; the nacreous snow draped like finery on the elegant bones of the rock, the radiance of Ilmarin spilling over the summit and down the steep sides, though the Palace itself was yet beyond sight. 'I suspect that the intesity of that which awaits us will drive all such thoughts from our minds.' he looked down and stirred the diamond dust of the path with his foot. Erestor, despite his preoccupation with a rather different kind of intensity, was fascinated by the solemnity of blythe Glorfindel. 

 'We are coming of age, my friend. When we descend this mountain we shall no longer be dismissed with the children, indeed, last year one of my cousins descended, and married almost at once. Everything will be different after today, especially the manner in which we are treated, and in which we are expected to behave. The momentary folly of a whimsical Elf, recklessly tasting the ice, will be left behind with our toys, I think.'   
 Glorfindel nodded. 'I think you are right. May I tell you, while we speak of serious matters, the nature of my grievance with Celegorm ?'  
 Erestor's eyes widened 'There is no need, it is enough for me that Olórin should speak of you with praise.' he paused and returned the grateful smile of Glorfindel 'But I confess that my curiosity is considerable.'  
 'He attacked my sister. ' said Glorfindel bluntly. 'I threw him off.'

  The shock reduced Erestor to silence, he stretched out a hand and pressed the arm of Glorfindel for a moment. Glorfindel nodded but did not speak for a while. They walked onward up the path, in an altered world; Erestor felt somehow taller, his spirit seemed to float freely, larger than his physical self, a radiance finer than eye could reach, blending like the Treelight with the spirit of Glorfindel. Where before each had felt a lone hand against numerous hostile opponents, now the knowledge that they stood beside each other had lifted the sense of menace like a warm wind dispersing mist. 

   
 Glorfindel paused after a while at a turn in the path and looked around at the vast horizon. Westward shone the trees, Laurelin was waning while Telperion waxed silver. The Light on the snow turned the golden hair of Glorfindel into a gleaming liquid fall; Erestor felt he could almost see the waters of awakening at Cuiviénen, made a living part of the world in the person of this loveliest of Elves. Moved to forgetfulness of himself, as foolishly as the youth who had drunk of the icy stream, he put out a hand and stroked the glowing, silvery-gold hair.   
 Glorfindel smiled at him, but Erestor knew that he had erred, that this was not the moment for such an intimate act, that Glorfindel would now despise him. He hung his head.   
 'Forgive me, Glorfindel, I apologise sincerely for my appalling manners, and my complete loss of my presence of mind.' He looked up, into the amused eyes 'It was your hair, the Light, the snow, the colours in your hair, it looked like water, or... or... I cannot say, some essence of starlight from the Old World...' .  
 Glorfindel shook his head and laughed softly 'Yes, people like my hair. Please do not apologise or think badly of yourself. I am pleased that you feel trusting enough to forget yourself, I think I was, no, I know that I was a little apprehensive that such a learned scholar, especially one who is kin to Fëanor himself, should be advised to spend time with one so insignificant. Truly, I am glad that you really think we can be friends. To prove my earnestness, I shall share a secret with you, though it matters little whether you speak of this to others, for Celegorm already knows.'  
 Erestor, whose mind and heart were in turmoil, looked in astonishment at Glorfindel   
 'A... you have a secret ? What kind of secret ?'  
 Glorfindel gestured out East, to where the great sea spread away into the darkness. The world seemed to have been carved in twain, for though the Light spilled forth through the Calacirya, it seemed merely to highlight the great blackness beyond.   
 'I fear the dark.' said Glorfindel simply.   
   
 There were no words adequate to convey the majesty of the Hall of Manwë. The youths were led through the vast entrance into the staggering space of the inner hall, where two statues of marvellous size and attention to detail were seated upon great shining thrones. Unseen, high above them on the galleries, choirs sang from the Ainulindalë, but the youths, alone and without guidance for the first time, gathered in the centre of the gleaming floor. At first they looked about them curiously, speaking softly of the wondrous hall, but soon the echoes of their own voices unnerved them, and silence fell.  The high, sweet song of the choir soared above them, the young Elves gradually became calm and stood in a stillness almost matching the imposing statues. Finally a voice rose from among them, a hand was raised, pointing. Every eye followed the arm, to where the space above them began to glow with shifting lights, that wreathed through the still air like glowing mist, yet with a curious transience, flickering into and out of existence, or bending light like glass in water. Their eyes struggled to make sense of what they saw, but the lights grew in brightness and intensity and began to circle swiftly above the Elves, until a garland of light hung in the air, the speed of motion giving their dazzled eyes the illusion of solidity, as though a mighty chandelier formed purely of light had been suspended over the vast hall. The light grew in intensity, until the fierce blue-whiteness of it seared across their minds, dazed their senses and left them stunned. With a final burst of barely tolerable brightness, the lights were gone. Their overwrought eyes saw only blackness, until a voice among them gave a wordless cry. The statues had begun to glow. 

 Erestor felt a kind of terror that he had never known before. The veiled power of Maiar such as the kindly Olórin had left him hopelessly unprepared for the crushing immensity of the Valar in their own Hall. Even his rare visits to the presence of Aulë had given him no hint of the power and majesty of the Lord Manwë and his Lady Varda, King and Queen of Arda; for Aulë had worn an Elven form, though on an altogether grander scale, and his mind had been absorbed in the work of his mighty hands. Those who had studied with Aulë had proven their devotion to the craft long before any question of admittance to his presence was considered.   
 But in Ilmarin were gathered all the Elves of their age, and these Valar were no fellow-crafters, these were the Lord of the wind and air, king of all Arda; and beside him the queen, the Lady of the stars, whose light had been the first sight of the first Elves, in Cuiviénen long before.   
 The vast statues grew in brightness, like the waxing of the Trees, until the light faded, and the colours of life and cloth and jewel gave them the appearance of living Elves, of giant frame and exquisite, breathtaking beauty. 

 There came a moment, after no discernible shift or alteration, when the heart of Erestor, between one instant and the next, knew that the statues were not graven images, but the very forms of the Valar, whose mighty spirits could wander at will, whether housed in their forms or not. The great eyes opened and the deep blue gaze of Manwë himself regarded them thoughtfully. Beside him Varda rose to her feet and with a smile began to sing.   
 The voice of the queen was strange to the young Elves, filling the hall with the booming power of some creature of the deep ocean, which, driven to the shore and, baffled among the frail craft of the Elves, called for the aid of its kin with all the echoic resonance of its mighty breath. But the beauty of the song of Varda, Lady Elbereth, had no counterpart among the music of the living, it was a remote, ethereal sound, the song of the wind of the stars, the song of Light falling like endless rain in the deeps of the sky, far beyond the Walls of the World. 

 As she sang, Erestor felt his spirit filling with meaning and purpose; he could feel that great wisdom and understanding would be his, when he had given the dazzling sense of insight time to form comprehensible notions in his mind. The path that his life would take, that of study and learning, unfolded in his mind like a carpet, he felt himself surveying the future as he had surveyed the valleys around the mountain; a future at once visible in all its expanse, yet far beyond his Elven eyes to discern in detail. Moreover, he felt that the whole landscape of his vision was his to roam at will, that however he chose to proceed, he would not err, for there was no doubt in his mind that the path of wisdom was a meandering one, and that there was no single right way to make the journey that lay ahead of him. He sighed happily, soaking up the Music like a wilting plant drinks the rain, and feeling a peace and serenity that he had never imagined existed. 

 Beside him, Glorfindel gasped, and fell to his knees, then hurriedly rose, and with a final shiver, composed himself. He did not turn to meet the questioning eyes of Erestor, but lifted his chin and gazed upwards at Manwë with his shoulders straight. Erestor recalled the dark warnings of Olórin and wondered if Glorfindel had seen some different valley to the one that he himself had had revealed. He wondered if he could ask Glorfindel, and if he did, whether Glorfindel would, or even could, give him an answer.   
   
 When Varda had ended her song and resumed her seat, Manwë rose and spoke to them, in a voice of the wind, with the power of the storm, the sibilance of the roaring trees and the resonance of the cliff-hemmed valleys of the mountains.   
 The voice of Manwë seemed not to speak in any words known to Erestor, yet half-formed notions and fragments of insight in his mind revealed themselves to be connected in understanding, as facets of a gem, or as fingers lifted upwards through the surface of water reveal themselves parts of the hand. Exaltation seemed to lift his feet from the ground, the Light within him seemed to dissolve the walls of flesh that kept him from the world, he felt himself afloat, an undifferentiated part of the joy in which he himself dissolved. Only his concern for Glorfindel, whom he could see did not share his joy, kept him from ecstasy. 

Manwë fell silent, the two Valar, still as marble, watched as the young Elves reminded themselves to breathe, and began to look about themselves as waking dreamers. The Vanyar stewards had returned, and slowly led the newest adults out into the full silvery light of Telperion. A feast was spread on the sward before Ilmarin, and those who had ascended the mountain ate with keen appetites, while laughing Vanyar kept their jewelled goblets brimming with pale cold wine. Erestor laughed himself, taking hearty bites of a soft roll with a savoury filling and crisp herb salad. Glorfindel was silent for a time, but Erestor, though eager to help in any way that he could, was as overwhelmed as the rest, and filled with the joy of a discovery so satisfying that he felt no need to rush to share his news, but was content to let the time take its course. 

 They ate and drank in silence, and as the nourishment cleared his mind, Erestor became aware that all around him were also silent, that the voices and laughter all came from their Vanyar hosts. He nodded slowly to himself; the young Elves were all as stunned as he himself, he knew it must be the same every year, and that their hosts, the Vanyar, knew that nothing they did or said could affect such a state of the spirit, so they joked and talked amongst themselves as though alone.   
  Finally Glorfindel, visibly summoning his courage, met the eyes of Erestor   
'My dear Erestor, I release you from the bonds of friendship. I would not have you associated with one such as myself. It has been an honour to know you, but I shall trouble you no more. I must find my own way through what... what lies ahead.'  
Erestor shook his head vehemently 'It is too late for such a notion, my friend, for we have climbed Taniquetil together, and I feel already a greater love for you than I do for any other, save only my parents and my brothers. I would rather have you as a friend than have the favour of the entire House of Finwë. Do not leave me now !'  
 'But Erestor, I have brought shame upon you, upon myself, and upon Olórin the Maia whose trust in me was misplaced.'  
 Erestor frowned 'But you have done nothing yet, how could you have brought shame upon anyone ?'

 Glorfindel gave a dry, cold laugh, little more than a snort. Erestor wondered if such a dark sound had ever been uttered at Ilmarin. 'Nothing ? You saw me crushed ! I crumbled and collapsed like the model of a house built by a child. My shame fills my spirit. I shall return to the farm of my family and take pleasure in the things that grow.' But his head bowed, his shoulders sagged, until Erestor thought his own heart would break with pity and sympathy, and with the now overwhelming love for Glorfindel that outshone even the joy granted him by the foresight of the Valar. He put out a hand, restrained himself from burying it in the soft golden hair, and instead laid it on his shoulder. 

 'You will not go back to stay, you will go back to rest and see your family, and soon I shall visit and lure you back to Tirion, where you will find all the purpose and joy that Eru has given us to find. As for your stumble before Manwë and Varda, you must consider this: do you think you are the first to be so affected ? Do you think you will be the last ? Your 'shame' seems less so even than the rashness of the youth who tried to drink ice. I expect that if I had been able to remember my limbs, that I would have tried to use them and fallen into a heap on the floor !  
 Great Eru ! those were the king and queen of Arda, every Elf present was stunned into silence. I think your kneeling was merely an expression of the sense of overwhelming awe that consumed us all. Shame ! ' he repeated, shaking his head and almost laughing.  
 Glorfindel blinked, looked curiously at him, then smiled tremulously   
 'Are you... do you think that ? Truly ? That I have not ruined everything already ?'  
 This time Erestor did laugh 'Look around you, dear Glorfindel, and tell me yourself.' 

 The Elves, calmed by the wine and strengthened by the food, buoyed by the knowledge that the great event was accomplished, and that the return was now a stroll down the mountain, had begun to talk and laugh. A few people were looking their way, but it was obvious even from a distance that Glorfindel had yet to grasp the experience. He looked wildly around, taking control of his breathing with visible effort, and within moments was able to see the others around him, standing politely away. He turned back to Erestor, this time tears gathered in his eyes.   
 'If it were not for you... if it were not for you I think that I would have fled this place and never spoken of it again. Henceforth, dear Erestor, I would trust you with my life. '  
 Erestor found the tears fill his own eyes  
 'Dear Glorfindel, though we have only just met, I feel that I have always known you, and that we shall always be friends. Furthermore, though you may have no rank or title, yet even so I feel more honoured by your friendship than I would feel were I seated at the right hand of Ingwë himself.' 

 Glorfindel swallowed but did not speak, merely laying his hand on the shoulder of Erestor. Their eyes met for a time, their hearts too full to speak. They smiled then, and turned back to the world. There on the summit of Taniquetil they shared the glorious spectacle of Arda laid out before them, the radiance of the Trees and the darkness of the ocean, the Light on the snow and the glowing colours of the high floating clouds.   
   
 


End file.
